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Neither by looking at his face or his blade, one could think he was the bane of demons.Yorimitsu understood the confused glances in the elders' eyes when his beloved sword showed himself. This cannot be the demon slayer sword. He looks no more than a mere teenage boy, he won't last a single second on Mount Ōe. As expected of the treasure sword of the Minamoto clan, but that's all he is – a treasure. Such beautiful craftsmanship should not be tarnished by the heat of battle.In a way, they weren't wrong.Not even Yorimitsu himself thought that beneath his handsome, feminine even, features lay monstrous ruthlessness. That beneath his calm, almost musical voice lay terrifying bloodlust. That beneath the respect he showed him as typical of a vassal towards his lord lay unfathomable desire. That was why it all took him by surprise the first time he got to experience it firsthand.Yorimitsu was very sure that he was the one initiating the encounter that night, that he was the one pulling his sword into a sloppy and noisy kiss. He was very sure that he heard the young beautiful man saying between moans and pants that he wanted to submit to his master's desire and wanted him to do whatever he pleased with his own ears. Yorimitsu didn't know how it ended up this way, his back pressed so hard against the tatami it would surely have marks all over it the next day, his vassal above him, pounding into that spot within him that set his entire body jolting with sparks of pleasure every time. His body, delicate and even giving the illusion of frailty, a perfect contrast with Yorimitsu's own muscular build, was dominating him, overpowering him in ways he never imagined."Master." he laughed into his ear, an erotically deranged noise. He paused after a while, seemingly to regain his breath, before chuckling into Yorimitsu's ear, "Please, do not be so silent. I want to hear your voice. I want to hear your scream, as though you're only a hair's breadth away from a bloody death."Yorimitsu never had time to respond, because right then nails dug into his sides and began scratching, while teeth bit into his shoulder, and instantly a loud, guttural cry escaped his throat, his pride vanishing into thin air. He cracked his eyes open, not knowing he had squeezed them shut, only to be greeted by those eyes that burned with pure lust, pure insanity, made all the more intense by the Minamoto crest within one of his pupils.He may be a treasure, but he was also a sword; he may be a work of excellent craftsmanship, but he was also a weapon, a tool of death and destruction, and it showed in the lustful smile, that insane laughter, the sinister sparks in his eyes that contrasted so perfectly with his beautiful, seemingly fragile looks.Yorimitsu could only gasp out, "You will be the death of me."